Nebulous
by cabasa
Summary: The path his daughter should choose has always been clear to him. Although, sometimes, even Hiroshi Sato cannot anticipate the nebulous nature of romance. Irosami. Masami.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: ****This doesn't actually follow the LOK story line. Although their ages in reference to each others' are akin to those in LOK. Hiroshi Sato does not hold prejudice against benders, even though his wife does die (due to natural causes) and the whole Equalist plot does not play in this story. **

**Do not own**

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As she lay quietly upon her belly, round and soft, she takes in the world around her. There are ants on the dry leaves scattered on the ground, birds in the tree adjacent to the one she is lying under and so much humidity in the air she feels distantly irritated.

The girl focuses on her breathing for several heartbeats, noting the slight increase in difficulty in drawing breath. Her chest feels heavier and more constricted, rigid and almost tight. She is not in a state of comfort, but this does nothing to change the child's position. She puffs up her cheeks and blows her fringe out of the way before sighing loudly.

There are many words to describe her current state- sad, empty, wounded, confused; although, tired is not one.

Ms Sato, as the servants call her, is not worn-out. Despite her being up for hours, despite not sleeping a wink the night before, she doesn't even feel remotely weary. The girl's eyes are unblinking and her gaze set upon the koi in the pond precisely a meter away from her head. She can barely see them, given her current posture but she is too lazy to bother.

The child has always adored these fish, as did her mother. Ms Sato's breath slows at the thought of the woman who bore her. Her mother would chastise her for her behavior, the way in which she has chosen to lie on the filthy soil of the garden instead of between the quality linen sheets in her massive bedroom.

The thought makes the girl's lips curl up at the sides even though her heart is heavy. This is where she and her mother often disagreed, although not openly. She is far too _mannered _for that.

Mrs Sato, a _proper_ woman, hailing from a reputable family; was marinated in the fancy culture of the elite all her life, the culture by which she had once, so persistently wanted her child to abide.

_Asami, posture, _were often her words of choice, those that were almost always delivered with a loving smile. Her plan was always for her daughter to grow into a mature and well-mannered individual and not a 'random street kid' as she termed it.

Her mother, a woman with perfectly manicured nails, flawless make up and a near perfect disposition, despite her persistence on poise, was a good and caring woman. She held a certain charisma about her, an unmistakable air of charm in her very person which made people adore her.

The girl's fingers come to settle upon the damp soil she so daringly lies upon. Years of being conditioned to act prim has not made her even the slightest bit squeamish of mud and swamp and gunk and slime; because she is not _just _a lady, she is… well, she is her.

And she knows what she knows she wants. She wants to be adventurous, learn the ways of the streets; wander into the shadowy parts of town. She does not want; she never wants to take orders from her father, mother, the nursemaids, or anyone for that matter.

She is her own person.

A caterpillar _waddles _(she doesn't know how else to refer to the thing's lazy motion) by, and Ms Sato squints at it. It's as if to say that she detests its arrogant behavior, that she resent's its unbecoming attitude (if bugs _had _attitudes), yet she doesn't. It's nice to see something unafraid to show its true nature every once in a while.

Too many people around her see her as _Ms Asami Sato_, the only daughter of the genius behind the Satomobile and heiress to her father's estate. They try their best to befriend her with smiles and gifts and presents and company. Yet, Asami has never desired such acquaintances_._

They all view her as a tool, a commodity they can use to gain favor with her father. Even though, the girl plainly wants to be seen as _just Asami_. She wants people to like her for her and not because of her family's wealth or the benefits they seek to gain.

_Just Asami, _the title chimes in her head as she decides that it indeed seems quite appropriate for the plain nature, which she wishes her life to possess. This doesn't mean she will give up good grooming, the tedious maintenance of her long, swishy locks or that she'll stop brushing her teeth.

No, it simply means that she wants to be her for her, and not some doll that does other people's biddings. She wants the freedom to do what she desires to do, not for anyone else's sake but hers. And if she so happens to want to look like a dark spirit, than damn those who wish to force her to dress otherwise. The crudeness of the way in which that came to mind startles her.

The child sits up and gazes at the sun. It sounds unhealthy really; gazing at the sun. It is certainly far from good for the eyes, although, she doesn't shrink away. Besides, the star is perched behind the clouds, obscured from her view.

The servants have left her to her own devices, none brave (or cruel) enough to break open the girl's fragile heart. Her mother has recently passed away in hospital but the news has not yet been delivered to the child.

Although, she already knows.

Gosh, she is so painfully aware; but would much rather remain ignorant. Such news is more evil than it is good. Asami scoffs at the latter. _Good _is not a word that that can even be distantly reflective of the raw ache in her chest, the lack of maternal warmth in her home, or the pain of having one less parent to kiss goodnight.

Although, her faith has taught her to believe that _everything _has a good side, even though sometimes, she has to strain to believe that it is true.

Silently she curses the spirits, the gods, and the Cosmic Elders whom she has been taught to revere. The six-year-old pauses a moment, eyeing the ball of light in the sky and slowly, points, her finger trained on the sun as she murmurs three blasphemous words - _I hate you. _

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**A/N: This... is Nebulous. I plan to make this into a drabble-ish series thing, but if the feedback deems it more appropriate as a oneshot then, yeah, i'll leave it and not expand. read and review!**

**OH! and btw, this is dedicated to babyvfan for taking the time to dedicate her irosami fic to me. thanks girl! :) take a look at her irosami works! their titles are 'Alluring Game of Wit and Lips' and 'Light My Candle'. i highly recommend them! thanks everybody thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

She has never really had any _true _friends. Sure, there's Rei and there's Teng; daughters of her father's business partners. They play together often, even though Asami has never liked their choice of toys. The girls, both mere months older than she, are very persistent on their daily tea parties and the dolling up of their little ebony haired figurines.

It's all right she supposes; sometimes Asami likes imagining that the, as the two older girls had mandated, _little people_ are more than merely inanimate objects. Yet, the girl knows that this is not true. She rubs at her nose absently as she suppresses the yawn that is on the verge of manifesting. This is boring, Rei and Teng are far too engrossed in their meaningless chatter, too busy pretending their dolls are indeed having tea with them.

Asami rolls her eyes. She would much prefer playing with toy cars or spending time outside, the confines of her home. The girl sighs softly and says 'cheerio' as is ever important in their daily charade. More than anything, Asami wants to have friends who care, ones who would bother about her wellbeing. It is clear that these girls lack those ever important traits.

"I'm sleepy," she announces and the girls stare at her incredulous. At age eight, these parties are their world. They live for the daily meetings of Blubber, the toy seal, Thu, a pretty looking, ebony-haired girl doll and Yew, a little earthbending figurine. The fact that Asami does not share the same sentiment makes them most surprised.

"But I thought you liked playing with them?" Rei queries and she shakes her head absently.

"No?" Teng asks and frowns a little. Asami notes the troubled emotion in her companions' eyes and quickly withdraws her statement.

"I meant that, if you don't mind… we could go out for ice-cream. We could have a sundae and even one with caramel. There's a shop downtown!" Asami exclaims and receives nods. She beams at them. Finally, here is a moment where they actually _listen. _She cannot help the triumphant grin that forms on her lips. Each girl grabs a 'guest' at their party and urges her to take one with her also. Too excited to refuse, young Ms Sato, agrees and haphazardly grabs Blubber.

As they walk through Asami's home, they are greeted with nods and smiles and polite queries of how their day has been. She can hardly get out of the house without being followed and thus brings a servant with her as she walks with her two companions.

Asami never likes the fact that she has to have a chaperone bring her through the town. She is more than capable of wandering around without them. Nonetheless, she does not resist the woman's offer to take them on their little journey.

The ice-cream shop is the most beautiful, attractively decorated little stall she has ever been in. The walls are bright pink (bubble gum pink that is), and the chairs are simply bags of beans set around little tables. The owner is a charming man with freckles and a kind smile. As the girls enter, he greets them and calls them '_ladies'_, a title that makes them flush and feel the weight of being someone important. This of course is merely the man playing to their fantasy of being grown up; it is ever so effective.

Asami cannot help grinning at the man as her fingers come to settle in her hair. She twirls her locks with her finger as she takes a seat on one of the beanbags. That is when she sees him. He is a boy no older than her, his eyes are a striking gold. The way in which he carries himself tells her he is something of a unique breed of boys. His features are grave, exceedingly so but he doesn't seem like he's ready to give in to the heaviness that is seemingly in his heart.

He turns then and catches Asami's gaze, holding it for a brief moment before looking away. She notes the slight redness on the boy's cheeks as he busies himself with clearing the rubbish from the bin at the ice-cream counter. It seems to her that he is reluctant to attend to them and she finds that amusing.

"Mako," the owner says, his voice as jolly as his disposition. "Maybe you'd like to get these lovely ladies some cold water?" he suggests. It is indeed a warm day, Asami notes as she absently wipes at her brow. "I'm sorry ladies," the man says politely. "He's new."

Asami watches as the boy approaches them. He's shyness towards them is painfully obvious as Asami suppresses the intrigue bubbling inside of her. Mako takes the other girls' orders first, asks the chaperone kindly what she would prefer and then, with more than a little trepidation, talks to young Ms Sato.

"WhatwouldyoulikeMiss?" he mumbles and she can hardly make out what he's just said. His words are mangled and barely audible, so that Asami has to ask him what it was that he'd said.

"I'm sorry?" she asks innocently, her words coming out far more audible than his. He fumbles with the little notebook he has in his hands and repeats himself, this time more clearly. Asami orders a green tea sorbet and asks that it be drenched in maple syrup. She loves her sweets, ever so very much.

Before they finish their desserts, Asami feels the urge to use the bathroom and vehemently declines her housemaid's offer to assist her. She knows well enough that she is a growing girl and would like to have her privacy; this makes it even more odd, that when she comes out, there, in all his awkwardness is Mako, his lips curled up at the sides, with some soap in his hands.

"I thought you might want some of this," he offers. Asami is taken aback by his little stunt at approaching her whilst she was at her most vulnerable (yes, she sometimes has a knack for over-exaggerating). For several heartbeats she wonders if he had been peeping at her, but glances at the closed window, with an opaque film over it and deduces that he hadn't.

"Yes," she says and offers him a smile. He returns the gesture awkwardly, watching as Ms Sato washes her hands. There is an unmistakable air of oddity between them. Although, Asami does not know why she performs her cleaning ritual so deliberately slowly. From the corner of her eye, she sees the boy rub the back of his head with his hand and then drawing a sharp breath speaks up.

"We're having a promotion next week," he states an awkward smile plastered on his face. "Would you mind… like coming?" he corrects and looks at her. Her heart flutters at the invitation as a wave of warmth passes through her like blood. "Well," he begins, anticipant. "Would you?" Asami flicks her hands of the remaining water and turns to face Mako.

Her lips are curled up at the side, her eyes boring into his as she answers."I would love to," she says and pauses. "If you'll accompany me," she says. And then adds quickly, "I couldn't possibly finish it myself," her nerves on edge. They are this way for various reasons, one being her fear that he might turn her invitation down.

"I will," he states and smiles at her, seemingly pleased with himself. He bids her farewell and disappears into the shop. She watches him go but doesn't follow, because deep in the confines of her heart, she thinks she finally knows what it's like to fall in love.

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**A/N: read and review! so mako is introduced! lol i must make it clear now that it could go either way, either irosami or masami. i'm fond of both pairings, even though i do prefer irosami. i also hope you will give me your feedback and maybe give me an idea of which pairing you might prefer (irosami or masami) thank you!**


	3. Chapter 3

She doesn't hear him when he comes.

Asami is sitting at their table, the one obscured by rows of bookshelves, the one by the window. She blows her hair out of the way, as she tries to focus on her breathing. There is something in the way that summer works that makes her feel edgy. It is unlike her really… normally, she is a very contended person. Today however, the eighteen-year-old Miss Sato sits perfectly still, face serious and even a little upset as irritation claims her.

It's not the wait that's killing her, but the unspoken possibility that he may not show that makes her uncomfortable. Sighing softly, Asami brushes her fringe to the back of her ear. She wonders what has held him up, what has impeded his visit to the library and bites on her lower lip, concerned. Granted, they never actually agreed to meet here on afternoons where they have their lecture on Military Tactics (which, by the way, she has been failing miserably), but that doesn't make her feel any better.

The young woman flips through the previous year's exam paper on the module from hell. She doesn't know why on earth she chose to listen to Mako. This is clearly his forte and hardly hers. She knows a great deal about history, but this cross-disciplinary subject is destroying her GPA.

Asami is silently grateful that she majors in Literature instead of this hellish subject. It was Mako's idea to opt for this module. Something about his timetable being crappy and not letting him take anything but.

Their lesson begins precisely an hour from now and Asami is growing restless. She stands abruptly, packing her things and preparing to leave. The young woman grabs her bag and turns sharply, bumping into the muscled chest of her best friend.

Mako smiles at her; his lips reflecting his apology and his eyes guilty, so much so that she feels her heart flutter in reaction. He has his father's scarf around his neck, even in this hot weather, his lips curled up at the sides. His pale skin almost glistens in the light as he places his hand on her shoulder and gently leads her back onto her seat, sitting beside her.

Her face colors a deep hue of crimson as young Ms Sato's cheeks burn at the contact. She will admit that she is relieved that he is here, but she will not say that she has actually missed him. Two weeks away at a student exchange program to the Earth Kingdom can do that.

"Hey," he breathes. Her heart sings as his eyes sparkle. They have been best friend for an eternity and known each other for even longer, yet she has never gotten over the crush she has on Mako. Everything about the firebender makes her feel lightheaded whenever she is with him and more than once, she has caught herself wondering what he looks like naked… Asami abruptly clears her mind.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he says, rubbing the back of his neck with the palm of his hand; an antic in his repertoire of nervous behavior. She smiles at him. Despite the sweltering heat and the fact that he is _late,_ she finds herself happy on the inside.

"It's all right," she tells him. Even though her wait for the young man has been slightly daunting, the fact that he showed up is more than reason enough for her to smile. Her eyes trail his form, his tall frame, the toned muscles of his arms and pictures the six-pack she is certain he has. She swallows hard and tries to prevent the sexual attraction she has to Mako from rearing its ugly head.

"I hear that there's a new lecturer in town," she begins, trying desperately to hide the fact that her mind is filled with dirty, dirty thoughts that involve him and her in a room… alone. For the second time in two minutes, she clears her mind again.

"Yeah I heard," he says and traces his finger in circular motions on a small portion of the table. "It's only fitting that they should get _the _General Iroh of the United Forces to talk about War Strategies," he says. Asami picks up the great admiration he has for the man as he leans into his seat and his hands come to rest upon his lap.

"So… the dance," he begins, changing the subject to the fund raising event at the end of the month. She straightens her posture and leans in, unable to hide her hopefulness that he has the intention of going with her. "I haven't managed to get anyone to go with me yet," he says, her heart is beating hard in her chest as he looks at her.

"Well," she begins and twirls her long fringe with her index finger, a habit she has grown to find comfort in."I haven't gotten a date yet myself," she answers. There have been quite literally, over twenty boys asking her to go with them. Some of them are sons of men and women who have links with her father, others are simple, sweet gentlemen who sincerely want her to have a good time. Nonetheless, despite all the attention and invitations, and her gratefulness for them, they have all been rejected.

"I thought of asking Korra," he says suddenly and her heart stops. The Avatar? The girl from the South, who rides on a Polar bear-dog to school every morning? Asami feels the dreadful sense of mortification fill her as heart as it sinks.

Turning away quickly, she lifts her belongings into her arms, tells Mako she needs the bathroom and leaves. It takes her all the willpower in the world not to show weakness, not to allow her romantic interest in Mako to show as she walks the long path to the lavatory, where the tears she has reserved, manifest.

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**A/N: okiedok. here's chapter 3! it looks like the majority of you want masami... lol. i'm torn! i LOVE irosami but i have a SOFT SPOT for masami... WHY CRUEL WORLD? WHY?! anyways, keep the reviews coming! and next chapter, IROH II IS INTRODUCED! stay tuned and don't forget to review after reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

He has never fancied speaking to crowds. Sure, there's always that adrenaline rush, that passion one feels coursing through one's veins when one delivers a lesson. General Iroh II is far too familiar with the dynamics of public speaking. His style is to use analogies to illustrate his point, diagrams are most unsuitable in his opinion and he doesn't like using them, unless of course, he doesn't have a choice.

Iroh makes a face when he notes the massive board behind him. It might not make sense to many, but to him, he knows very well how graphs and the displaying of statistics can distract an audience. He tries to make use of the diagram as he points vaguely at the Earth Kingdom village of Tu Zhong. Damn him and his forgetfulness, he had completely forgotten to bring his pointer.

Frustrated and in danger of succumbing to awkwardness, he begins with an analogy, talking about how colonies of crawlers (minute insects with enormous rears) invade and conquer other colonies. He illustrates his point on how it is important to concentrate only on one front instead of many. Crawler colonies focus their armies on only one enemy for most of their ventures.

He looks over the crowd, subconsciously building rapport with the young undergraduates. He smiles absently, reminiscing about his own university days. He was a study fanatic, eager to live up to his grandfather's reputation of having academically successful descendants. Alas, by the end of the first semester of studying Political Science with a minor in War Strategies, he knew that he would _never_ beat his mother's near perfect college results.

Iroh was right, he didn't even come close to the Fire Lord's grades. He doesn't know why, but somehow there was that competitiveness within him, something that drove him to want to become more reputable than his mother. She is a strange and peculiar choice of competition. Although, he is the only child of a woman who is an only child herself and there is really no one he can pit himself against but her.

As his eyes flow over the crowd of students, he notices a girl dosing off. The young man beside her, looks like he is listening intently, a quick glance at the other students confirms that they are focusing on nothing but his lesson. Yet, despite all of the attention the other students are giving him, he cannot help but be distracted and, if he'd be honest, affected by the dosing student.

"Miss!" he exclaims, his voice is carried by the way in which the theatre is built. He notes off handedly, the ingenious method of design that allows the speaker to be heard without using external devices to augment their voice. He watches as the other pupils turn, their eyes searching for the student who has been singled out.

"You sir, the one with the red scarf, please wake your friend up," he says. Iroh is a fairly patient man, never one to scold anyone or get mad easily. This however, is inexcusable and he refuses to tolerate this… this _obnoxious _behavior.

"Asami," he hears the boy say as he shakes her. Her eyes open and he, for a moment, is in awe of the complexity of the colour of her eyes. She shakes her head sleepily, but stops mid-yawn, as she notices that she is in a very awkward position. Her eyes meet his, time seems to stop as everything becomes awful, awful and embarrassing.

"Miss…"

"Sato," she offers, her cheeks flushing. "Asami Sato," she says sheepishly.

"Well, Miss _Asami Sato_," he articulates. "Perhaps this topic is boring to you? Are you very familiar with the detailed and long undisclosed military plans devised by Sozin? Are you are so well versed you think this lecture irrelevant?" his tone surprises him a little.

He has never been one to be this _petty_. Yet, he cannot help being offended by her disinterest. "I would like to see you after the lecture," he tells her and watches as her cheeks continue to deepen in crimson hue. He seemingly suppresses his anger by blinking as he continues with the lecture. She covers her face with her hands and attempts to block the scrutiny coming her way. Even though, she just feels like an ostrich horse with its head buried in the sand.

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**A/N: HI EVERYONE *waves* so iroh II is introduced! poor sleepy asami D: read and review!**


	5. Chapter 5

The university is kind enough to allow Iroh a nicely furnished office, with chairs made of mahogany and a table with the Replublic City emblem carved into its side. He hears that this place was once the office of the Dean of The School of Historical and Diplomatic Studies, which Iroh thinks if a awfully horribly long title.

Behind him, is a large window, framing the view of Republic City, the constant reminder of the history of a world scorned by war and rebuilt by peace. Iroh glances at the grandfather clock beside the heavy bookshelf. His lecture ended 3 hours ago, with a very embarrassed student, named Miss Asami Sato averting her gaze when looked at.

A part of him feels that he was way too harsh and should not have embarrassed her in front of two hundred other students; yet he also feels adamant the young lady deserved the correction.

The young General is torn between his pride, which doesn't usually dictate his actions, and his undecidedly soft demeanor.

He had told her to come to his office immediately after the lecture, yet she is not yet here. Distantly, he wonders if she will ever show.

Bored, Iroh grabs the book he had had since he was a child; a present from his father, a high ranking officer in the Fire Nation Air Force. The book is special; a memoir of sorts, written by his paternal grandfather who had led an arm of the resistance during the Battle of Qian, one of the rebel strongholds of the Fire Nation.

The precious book tells of the previous efforts the resistance had made and the one they were planning for their future. His grandfather had died miserably by the hand of a ruthless soldier, who struck him with lightning, killing him instantly. The Hundred-Year War was more than just a history lesson to Iroh; it was his family's story.

He leafs through the fragile pages, taking great care not to accidentally tear the paper, when the door swings open. His eyes meet that of Miss Asami Sato who quickly looks away. He angles his chin upward and allows the awkward silence between them.

"You didn't knock," Iroh says, and regrets his harsh tone. "I mean… please come in Miss Sato."

"I'm sorry… the assistant outside told me I could enter."

"Yes, of course," he smiles tightly and gestures to the vacant seat in front of him. He watches with mild amusement as she skirts around the large Republic City crest crafted upon a gold plated fixture on the floor.

She looks uncomfortable, probably feeling guilty about dosing off during his apparently 'uninteresting' lecture. She stands by the cushioned seat nervously and he cannot help but shake his head, albeit discreetly.

"Good afternoon," her greeting is sudden, coupled with a slight nod.

"Yes, good afternoon, Miss Sato… now, please sit down," he says. "You were sleeping during my lecture. And I would like to know what it was that made you so tired?" he is certain to allow his tone to display mild displeasure.

"School's rather hectic, General. Finals are on their way, assignment deadline are coming… I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"I hope not. Now, I gave you all a pop quiz at the end of the lecture and I have to tell you that your score was… unexpected. Unfortunately, you didn't pass, Asami which surprises me, after I heard how bright a student you are, with consistently good grades."

Asami raises her eyes and feels a blush creeping onto her features, Iroh feels a little guilty that he has to be the one to inform her that she hadn't done well.

"Now, I don't like to scold anyone, and I apologize for embarrassing you earlier during class. You must be upset, but you…"

"I'm not angry," Asami looks into the gold orbs of the General who now has raised eyebrows.

"Let me finish," his tone is reproachful. "You didn't do well for the pop quiz. I think should know that I'm taking your tutorial group for a whole semester. You will pass this module, Miss Sato and your friend, Mako, who got the highest score in class is gonna make sure of that."

Asami allows jealousy grown within her. She knows this is absurd. Mako is her best friend and he more than deserves to do well for his test… can't she just be happy for him? Yet, she cannot help the envy that rises in her chest and the displeasure that he, who is usually behind her in academics, has found success in this module, when she has none.

"And," Iroh begins as he sees her eyes drift to the view behind him. "I'll be honest, Asami, if you fail this module, it will affect your GPA," he pauses and allows this bit of reality to set in. "I hear from the other teachers you would like to become a writer at the Republic News Publishing Service after you graduate," he watches as she nods.

"Penny dreadfuls," she mentions.

"I know… you're a literature major and you want to get your name out there, become famous; achieve; sell a few thousand copies of the novels I am sure you will write. I don't doubt your ability in literature, Miss Sato… but let me remind you, that while fiction is your passion… history is everyone's truth."

Asami blows her fringe from her face as she finally meets the general's gaze.

"You need to pass this module… and you will. Come to my office once every week, you need the tutelage. Bring Mako if you like," he says and smiles a little, trying to ease the tension. "You pass Military Tactics and you don't have to deal with me again. The module's easy once you have the interest, all right?" he watches her nod.

"That will be all, Miss Sato, thank you," he says and stands, showing her out of his office.

Asami goes to wash her face after, noticing that her blush has not subsided.

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**A/N: Thank you for your attention. Reviews would be appreciated. **


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